Page 197 of Misrule
“Right,” Bailey said. “I’ll have it tomorrow.”
“This is highway robbery,” Roxy protested as they started for the door.
“One other thing, Mrs. Banks,” Father Wilkins called.
When Bailey halted, so, too, did Roxy.
“I want no murders, shootings, stabbings, fights, or any other untoward happenstance taking place anywhere on the church grounds. That includes the parking lot.”
“Don’t blame Bailey for Outlaw shooting his daddy there,” Roxy protested.
“She didn’t pull the trigger, but she’s part of the club. Therefore, it isherresponsibility to keep my church gore free.”
“The club is at peace,” Bailey said. “There’s no war going on.”
“For now,” Father Wilkins, “but with these men that can change in a blink.”
Roxy and Bailey exchanged glances, unsettlement sinking into the pit of Roxy’s stomach.
“Good day, Mrs. Banks,” Father Wilkins said in dismissal.
Walking away, Roxy told herself her disquiet had no basis. As Bailey said, the club didn’t have any active enemies, so there was nothing to worry over.
As much as she argued with herself, though, she couldn’t shake the feeling of bad things on the way.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“Who in your wedding party, Knox?” Digger asked, holding his arms out so Mr. Whittlestone could measure him. The noise of the little boys, including Grant, didn’t seem to bother him at all.
But it added to Knox’s headache. Nothing seemed to be going right. He’d had to beg Callie to send Grant to Hortensia for the weekend. Apparently, she didn’t want Knox to marry Roxanne. Or anyone, for that matter. Somehow, he’d gotten through to Callie, and she’d agreed to send Grant for his fitting.
Roxanne had all but disappeared from the club. She knew him, so she’d figured out his plan to corner her every chance he could. He didn’t dare go to her place. To win her back, he needed to be alive. She hadn’t been around to see his tattoo outlines or even to inquire after his well-being. But he had to grin and bear it, and pretend they were fine. She was on the other side with the women and Mrs. Whittlestone. Knox couldn’t imagine what Roxanne was doing or if she found this pretense as painful as he did.
He'd truly thought Outlaw and Mortician knew Knox and Roxanne hadn’t made up, but it seems as if they did. It was Mortician who’d forced them to attend this travesty.
Then, there was Kendall. He never thought he’d see her brought so low. Her maid or nanny or whoever the fuck Ella was, had finally moved in. He’d also seen Johnnie promise to have Val do an electronic sweep. Rebelling against Outlaw’s hard stance, Knox hadn’t bothered to warn him of Johnnie’s intentions. Something needed to make Outlaw back off.
Put together it made Knox’s head pound.
“Dad, isn’t Uncle Cam in your wedding?”
“Hmmm. Oh, uh, yeah,” Knox answered, remembering Digger had also asked a question. “I thought your brother and me were sharing groomsman.”
“You thought wrong,” Mortician told him. “Especially since you didn’t ask a motherfucker.”
“Motherfucker!” Rory squealed.
Grinning, Johnnie turned and ruffled his son’s hair, while Val wrestled on the floor with Ryan. Mr. Whittlestone seemed amused, if a little overwhelmed. The shop was closed to accommodate the Banks/Harrington wedding party. Or, most of it, since Knox hadn’t ordered his tuxedo there.
Hisuselesstuxedo. Depressed, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair.
“’Law!” CJ yelled.
“’Law,” Ryder mimicked, around the green binky in his mouth.
“MegAnn say Aunt KenDall on the way,” CJ blared over the noise of the guys and their sons.
All movement stopped. Knox’s headache worsened. He wasn’t sure what mood Kendall would be in today. Besides, they had a full house, including CJ, which might not bode well.
